Studying the Prisoner
by Fallyn Irlandes
Summary: There is a prisoner in the dungeons. If you look hard enough, you'll find something out of the ordinary about his situation. And it's not the fact that he's the former king of Camelot, either. (Dark)


_A/N: I feel the need to warn you. Today my fic-a-thon dictated my writing a Horror Merlin fic, and this idea presented itself, and it sat so uncomfortably with me that I had to run it by someone else, mollify them with my drabble about the Curse of Non-Lethal Magic, and finally accept that anything written for the Horror genre is going to be uncomfortable by default._

_So...yeah. That's why this fic has its own document, instead of being stuck in my Myths and Magic one-shot series. Because it's AU and has a dark!character. I don't even know anymore..._

* * *

The dungeon is cold.

It's almost empty, too.

In fact, you have to scrutinize every inch of the cell, and you have to study the shadows, and you have to look so very very hard before you can find anything out of the ordinary.

The prisoner huddled in the corner isn't out of the ordinary, of course—what are dungeons for? No, the bedraggled appearance makes sense—he's been here for months and it isn't like they bathe him regularly—and the uncontrolled shivering makes sense, because these cells aren't made for comfort and they're below ground and of course they'd be cold, and the defeated expression makes sense because it's hard to be anything else when you've been left to rot in a cell for so many months you can't remember how many any more.

At first you might think his clothes are odd—they look like they had once been very fine and expensive—and you might look closer, and you might be able to see a royal crest on the sleeve, and you might be able to deduce that this is in fact Arthur Pendragon.

At first you might think that out of the ordinary—that such a king would be locked up in his own dungeon.

You would be wrong.

Kings have enemies. Bitter, determined, powerful enemies.

No, while it is unusual, it is not unheard of.

You would have to examine every particle of dust in this cell to find anything out of the ordinary.

And it wouldn't be anything you could _see, _but that which you _couldn't._

There is an absence of something in this cell. Something is missing. The cell is mostly bare, the floor is swept dirt and the prisoner only has his own clothes, no blankets, and there is absolutely nothing else in the cell.

There are no guards outside the door.

This, this might be excused as well, since anyone able to imprison Arthur Pendragon with impunity for at least several months would be able to keep him here. It isn't what is truly missing.

The door has not been opened since he was thrown in here. You would be able to tell this only by the marks on the floor—the lack of them.

This isn't what's missing, either, but it's a clue.

You see, the bars are very close together. Very tight, and these particular ones have crossing perpendicular bars that enclose the former king of Camelot in an uncrossable cage. He cannot get out, and nothing can get in.

Not even food.

The dirt floor is immaculate, and even though you would imagine the prisoner to be starving and you might imagine him capable of eating every last crumb off the floor, not even the most starving man in the world can eat without relieving himself.

This prison stinks, but it is only the smell of unwashed human, dank stale air, and mold.

Nothing else.

That's what's missing. This is what is out of the ordinary.

Arthur Pendragon has been here for so many months, and he has not eaten this entire time, and he is still alive.

How?

Perhaps you missed the first two words.

Arthur Pendragon.

Son of Uther Pendragon, infamous predator of magic.

You see?

Whoever put Arthur Pendragon in prison is a magic user. Whoever his jailer is is keeping him alive, but still hungry and thirsty. Cold. Uncomfortable. Abandoned.

Can you think of anyone who would hate him that much?

Hate him enough to want him gone?

Distant enough to not hate him enough to kill him?

Who could be that cold, that angry…that furious? That powerful? That in control?

To be able to simply leave him here, and not do anything else…this takes such an enormous amount of will. No ordinary person could do it. We know magic is involved, but most magic users tend to be volatile. Even with the constant threat of the Pendragon laws and hatred over their heads, they cannot keep from lashing out at who hurt them when they have the ability to do so.

This…this is perhaps lashing out. But it is for a different crime than hating how you were born and killing your brothers and sisters. This punishment is for someone who did not _see, _who did not _care, _who ignored the last person in the world he should have ignored.

This punishment is from someone powerful enough to depose the king of Camelot, not kill him, and yet still retain the throne.

This cold calculated punishment is from someone who was left alone too often.

If you looked carefully at the huddled figure of the former king, you could see him mouthing words. Two words, a plea to his captor.

A plea that has gone unanswered for several months, and will probably go unanswered for years to come.

Perhaps, if Arthur Pendragon feels up to it, he might voice the words—the only words he'll speak, as opposed to when he was first thrust in here and railed and cursed and shouted—and you might hear them, slipping through the caging bars of the cell, and you might hear his broken heart in them.

Can you hear them?

The word _please, _and the name of his captor.

_Merlin._


End file.
